Corrupt
by RattyCatty
Summary: Post season 4 finale: Regina summons Dark One!Emma and gets more than she bargained for. Regina and her family try to pick up the pieces and fight to get Emma back. Started as awful, filthy, rough PWP, but then plot happened. Vague D/s dynamic and (relatively) sexually submissive!Regina. Swan Queen smut with plot.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! I am back (as long as writer's block stays away). I've been pretty busy with exams for a while but I'm a free gay now so there are a lot of things in the works. \o/**

 **Set after the season 4 finale: Regina summons Dark One!Emma and gets more than she bargained for. Shameless, filthy, rough PWP with (relatively) submissive!Regina.**

 **I am a thirsty creature. Feedback is always appreciated.**

 **WARNINGS: Explicit smut, swearing, roughness, vague D/s dynamic - all that good shit.**

 **DISCLAIMER: I do not own Once Upon A Time.**

* * *

It's decided that it's best Regina looks after the dagger; she's the most capable magic user, after all, and has more than proved her good intent. She's also strong enough to separate herself from her feelings and escape manipulation from the Dark One.

That had all seemed well and good in theory, discussed over tea at the Charming's apartment. However, here, standing alone in her bedroom in pyjamas and sock feet with the dagger in her hand, Regina couldn't feel more out of her depth.

This should be easy; she has the dagger. She can control Emma if she's to appear, and if the blonde doesn't, then there's no need to worry.

But it's not easy. The house feels far too large and she feels far too small, and she's very aware of her son asleep just down the corridor. They're messing with forces too big for them to handle or even comprehend – they're talking about the greatest, oldest evil combined with the saviour to form something new, volatile, and unpredictable – and nothing about this is at all comfortable.

Regina had told herself she wouldn't let her emotions get the better of her – that's most of the reason she's been entrusted with the dagger, after all. She just needs to hide the dagger away, go to bed, and forget about it, at least until the morning. This is the sensible thing to do, but before she can stop herself, her lips are moving.

Her hand trembles as she holds the dagger out in front of her. The words, "Dark One, I summon thee," roll off her tongue against her will.

She's just doing this to gauge the situation and see how far gone Emma is; that's all this is. She's definitely not doing it because she simply wants to see Emma. No sir.

For a moment, nothing happens. There's an eerie silence, and Regina swears she can almost hear her heart thumping inside her chest. Then she exhales and lowers the dagger. It hasn't worked, and she's half relieved and half disappointed. She's about to lay the knife in an old chest just the right size for such a weapon when an icy chill floods the room. A strong sense of unease settles over Regina, and it only increases when she hears a low voice come from behind her.

"I didn't expect you to cave so quickly. Then again, all things considered, it does make sense."

Regina spins, the dagger raised again. In front of her, the blonde sheriff stands, leaning against the door frame lazily. "Emma," the brunette breathes, eyes wide.

The blonde flinches slightly at the use of her name before composing herself and glaring at the former queen with hard eyes. "Forgive me," she says icily, making it very clear she could not care less if Regina forgives her or not. "But I'd rather you didn't call me that."

Regina hardens, her eyes becoming guarded and her mouth setting into a thin line. It's very clear that this isn't Emma talking – the Dark One has her in its grasp, and it's not going to let go easily.

"It's so–" Emma pauses, cocking her head and searching for the right word. " _–mellow."_ The blonde runs a finger over the top of Regina's dresser, picking up knick-knacks and fiddling with them before discarding them as if they're of no value whatsoever. She spits out her own name – " _Emma!" –_ as if it leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

"What would you rather I call you, then?" Regina retorts sharply, watching the blonde play with the mostly worthless trinkets that sit on her dresser.

The blonde's head snaps up and she looks at Regina with beady eyes – that lovely soft, liquid emerald has been replaced with a sickly, greyish green, and her eyes look bloodshot and almost reptilian. She drops the unlit candle she's currently holding onto the dresser once more, and it topples over, but neither women pay any attention to it.

"You can call me by my title," Emma orders. "The _Dark One."_

Regina watches the blonde for a moment with conflicted eyes. "You can't run from her forever," she says calmly.

"In case you're forgetting, I'm the Dark One," Emma sneers. "I don't run from anyone."

"Maybe, but you're not exactly cuddling up to Emma Swan – the _saviour_ ," Regina explains. It looks an awful lot to her like part of Emma – the part currently overcome by the darkness – is trying to put distance between herself and the saviour part of Emma, the part full of goodness and power, but also responsibility.

The blonde's eyes flash dangerously, and her hand flies out in front of her, her magic pushing Regina across the room and pinning her against the wall, holding her there. "Is that would you'd like?"

Regina swallows, fighting against the urge to struggle. Her brow furrows – the conversation has taken a turn but she's not quite sure where it's gone.

"You forget, Regina, that I've been inside you," the Dark One says, emphasising her last two words, well aware of the double entendre. "The Dark One has been inside your head. I know what you feel for the saviour."

The brunette snorts.

"I know that you wouldn't mind cuddling up to her," she purrs, slinking closer in a predatory way that's distinctly _not_ Emma Swan.

"You're wrong," Regina lies.

"Am I?" Emma contradicts, finally reaching the brunette. She presses her body flush against Regina's and lays a hand on her chest, just above her heart. It would be so easy for her right now to simply reach in and grab the queen's dark heart, for her to squeeze it into dust in front of the older woman's very eyes, but that's not what she wants here and they both know it. "Because _this,"_ the blonde's eyes lock onto deep brown ones as she presses harder against Regina's chest. "Says otherwise."

And it does. It betrays Regina's steely resolve and beats fast and hard under Emma's palm. The brunette curses herself for not removing it before summoning the Dark One. Even if Emma has no intention of taking it right now, it's idiotic to bring your heart to a situation like this; it's the one valuable lesson her heartless mother had taught her.

"What, no witty, cutting remark?" Emma mocks, with wide, innocent eyes.

Regina bites back the anger that's growing inside her. "I won't fight you," she growls. It's a lie, she knows; if it comes to it and Emma starts throwing her about, she'll defend herself.

"Oh, I don't want to fight you, Regina," the blonde counters. "Where's the fun in that?"

Dark, perfectly sculpted brows pull together in confusion, and then there are lips crashing against her own – chapped and salty, and so completely Emma, but so _not_ ; she can practically taste the darkness on Emma's lips, and it makes her want to both pull away and kiss her deeper.

She does the latter.

It's messy and hard and violent; teeth clashing and biting, and tongues pushing against each other. It's intoxicating, and completely forbidden and wrong, which somehow only makes it more desirable.

One of Regina's hands, the one that's not holding the dagger, moves to knot in blonde locks. She's not sure if she's trying to pull Emma closer or push her away.

God, this is a mess. This should not be happening.

Thankfully, she doesn't have to make a decision, because Emma pulls away first. There's an infuriating smirk on her lips that simply says "I told you so" and Regina wants nothing more than to wipe it off.

Either with a kiss or a punch – she doesn't particularly mind which.

"Is that what you want? My body?" Regina asks with raised eyebrows, because it seems rather unlikely that all the Dark One wants is sex from the Evil Queen.

"Now you're getting it," Emma drawls, shooting her a devilish grin before leaning in and kissing Regina hard once more. The hand still resting over the queen's heart slides over the swell of Regina's breasts, groping them roughly through the silk pyjama shirt.

Regina can't stop the breathy moan that bubbles up in response to the contact. Her nipples stiffen under the fabric, and somewhere in the back of her mind, she's embarrassed by the quick reaction. Apparently her body won't stop betraying her tonight.

Emma's head dips lower, her mouth moving to the brunette's throat. Teeth bite down on the sensitive skin and Regina yelps at the unexpected pain. Heat rushes to the space between her thighs all the same, and she finds herself thoroughly turned on by the display of carnal, animalistic lust, regardless of how wrong this is.

The blonde's mouth leaves behind a perfect imprint of her teeth, pink and stinging, marking Regina as her own.

And then it clicks: it's not the act of sex that the blonde wants, but the power.

But it's too late, because one of Emma's hands is trailing down Regina's stomach, slipping under the hem of her shirt and tracing circles across the olive skin of her abdomen. This is too divine – all anger, possession, and pure, unbridled lust – and the brunette can't stop this now, despite how much she knows she should.

"I hate you," Regina grits out before inhaling sharply when Emma ducks her head to bite Regina's sensitive peak through her shirt. She doesn't really – she could never _hate_ Emma again – but she's scrabbling for some semblance of control.

"I'm sure you do," Emma chuckles. "You can stop this if you want," she says, pausing to look at Regina. The magic pinning Regina to the wall is gone, and the brunette is completely free to move away if she so wishes. "You have the dagger. Just tell me to stop."

There's that damn manipulation that seems to be the Dark One's trademark. It's a trick to force her to practically hand her control over willingly, to make her admit she wants this. It's all about power and humiliation, and Emma knows she's going to get it because Regina is too far gone. The blonde has worked her up and she needs her release, needs more of this terrible _thing_ they're doing.

"Fuck you," Regina spits.

Emma chuckles. "That's my job." When the brunette doesn't command her to stop, the blonde slips her hand beneath the waistband of Regina's silk pyjama bottoms. Her fingers play over the lace of the brunette's underwear, stroking her through the damp fabric.

Regina's teeth sink into her lower lip. Her chest rises and falls rapidly in anticipation as the blonde continues teasing her.

"I've been waiting a long time for this," Emma murmurs.

"Have you now?" Regina retorts, trying to stop her voice from wavering.

Emma hums in confirmation. Her fingers apply a little more pressure as they continue to trail back and forth. Regina half grunts as the blonde pushes on her clit for a moment before moving away again. Emma just grins slyly, and then pushes the lace to the side, dipping into the abundant wetness. Her fingertips slide through Regina's folds ever so slowly, spreading the brunette's arousal around.

The blonde withdraws her slick fingers then, bring them up to her face and admiring the way they glisten in the low light of the bedroom. Then, she rests those same fingers on Regina's lower lip, pushing slightly, silently telling her to open her mouth. Regina obliges, and two fingers push into her open mouth. The former queen's tongue brushes against them, licking herself from Emma's fingers. Regina moans languidly at the taste of herself, and more wetness pools between her thighs.

"Good girl," Emma praises with a smirk. She takes her fingers away again and slips them back inside Regina's underwear, delighting in the new heat she finds there. "Who knew the Evil Queen could be so submissive?"

As if to prove her wrong, Regina growls and grinds her hips down against the sheriff's hand, pursuing the friction she needs. "I'm right where I want to be," she mutters.

Emma just chuckles and pulls her hand away with a shake of her head, denying Regina her pleasure. "I'm sure you are." When the brunette's hips stop moving, Emma moves in again, fingers searching and exploring. "I'll tell you something."

Regina's head drops back against the wall with a dull thump as two fingers glide over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Ever since I got to Storybrooke, I've wanted to do this," the blonde admits, her fingers moving in tight circles, changing direction every now and then to mix it up a bit. "Wanted to _fuck_ you." She punctuates her crude words by finally pressing two fingers inside Regina, drawing a strangled gasp from the older woman. Emma smirks slyly at the reaction, and curls her fingers before pulling them out almost all the way.

"Then do it," Regina hisses, hips bucking impatiently. She needs this bad, needs to come and needs to stay quiet and needs Emma to leave afterwards.

"Patience, Your Majesty," Emma purrs, but pushes back into the brunette all the same. She goes further this time, but then she's withdrawing again, and _god,_ if Emma doesn't stop this teasing and get on with it soon –

The blonde thrusts back in hard before settling into a steady rhythm, fingers curling and brushing torturously against that rough spot with every push. Her thumb works circles over her clit all the while, driving Regina towards the edge.

Emma's name leaves the brunette's name in a broken whimper. Regina bites down dangerously hard on her bottom lip, almost enough to draw blood. She can still taste herself on her lips, and it only adds to her arousal.

"I've already told you," Emma snarls, knuckle-deep in Regina. " _Don't_ call me that!" She pushes a third finger inside the mayor, and Regina can't bite back her cry of pleasure.

Three fingers sliding against her G-spot and one circling her clit is enough to finish her and send her hurtling over the edge. Her body goes rigid, hips still rocking desperately, trying to drag it out as long as possible. Emma's mouth moves to cover hers, muffling the wanton moan that she's unable to swallow. Wetness spills over the sheriff's fingers, and then it's all over.

Regina slumps against the wall, held up by Emma's strong form. The blonde pulls out whilst the queen catches her breath, and her tongue glides over her own fingers, tasting Regina on herself. She tastes good, better than anyone Emma's tasted for a long while, and she wants more.

A hand shoves at the blonde's shoulder, pushing her back a few steps, before Regina raises the dagger again, not high enough to command her, but high enough to be an effective warning. Emma's amazed she was able to hold onto it for so long, honestly.

"You have to go," Regina orders, her voice and body still shaky from her orgasm.

"But we were having so much fun!" Emma complains innocently, before turning devilish again. "I can think of more enjoyable things to do with that dagger," she says, dragging a finger down Regina's still-clothed chest.

Regina's brows raise. "Really? So tell me, Dark One," she says, half challenging the blonde. She really shouldn't give into this, because Emma really does have to go, but this is all too delicious.

"Where do you want me, other than gone?" Emma asks. She's willing to take a more submissive role if it means she gets to stay because even if this is about power and forcing Regina to admit what she wants, she's quite enjoying the other things too.

The brunette swallows and inhales. She wasn't expecting to be practically handed the control, but it's happening. Her resolve weakens. Raising the dagger higher, she orders the Dark One in a shaking but resolute voice. "I want you on your knees."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 is finally here! Thank you for sticking around and bearing with me. I've had some personal stuff going on and all that, but here's this. (I feel like I'm apologising constantly for not writing. ?)**

 **Thanks to a kind reviewer on AO3, this has been extended to three chapters (as long as all goes to plan.) Yay \o/**

 **I'm not entirely sold on this but if I don't post it now, it's just going to sit around in my Documents whilst I proofread it over and over again, so I'm just gonna go ahead and do it. Feedback is really cool, so tell me what you liked and didn't like!**

 **Also, for the sake of this story, let's say the dagger works on intent - if the person holding the dagger isn't focusing on controlling the Dark One, it doesn't work. The less focus there is, the less magic forces the DO to obey. And something about holding the dagger up vs holding it by your side. Forgive me for sinking to OUAT levels of fuzzy logic, but I really didn't want to blur the lines between consent and magical coercion. In my mind, both Regina and Emma are fully consenting here, despite the power play, and I sincerely apologise if it comes across any other way.**

 **Warnings: Swearing, roughness, explicit smut, a vague D/s dynamic, very brief throat-grasping, dirty talk, and orgasm denial. The sort of thing that renders you unable to look your mother in the eye.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own OUAT.**

* * *

" _Where do you want me, other than gone?" Emma asks. She's willing to take a more submissive role if it means she gets to stay because even if this is about power and forcing Regina to admit what she wants, she's quite enjoying the other things too._

 _The brunette swallows and inhales. She wasn't expecting to be practically handed the control, but it's happening. Her resolve weakens. Raising the dagger higher, she orders the Dark One in a shaking but resolute voice. "I want you on your knees."_

* * *

The Dark One grins, something like excitement flashing in her eyes, and lowers herself to the carpeted floor before the woman who suddenly seems every bit the queen she once was. "That's more like it," the blonde hums, staring up at the brunette from her place at her feet. Her eyes appear more human now, closer to their usual vibrant colour rather than the offish green of the Dark One, and containing more emotion. It appears that this is largely Emma talking rather than the Dark One that inhabits her body, and that alone is enough to leave Regina breathless. "What else?"

"I need your mouth," Regina husks, completely overcome by lust. The dagger is lower now, the brunette's arms becoming increasingly limp; when she utters these words, barely any magic tugs at the Dark One and forces her into submission. Emma could easily overcome the magic and go against Regina's will if she wanted to, but she doesn't.

"As you wish, Your Majesty," Emma complies in a velvety voice. Her fingers latch onto the waistband of Regina's pyjama bottoms and begin to slide them down toned, olive legs. The silk pools at Regina's feet, and she promptly steps out of them and kicks them aside. The wet lace panties are next, and Emma tugs them down eagerly, fingernails grazing Regina's thighs. Then the underwear hits the carpet, joining the pyjama bottoms in the heap of discarded clothing.

"Take that off," the blonde commands, gesturing to the still fully buttoned pyjama shirt. Regina works on the buttons with hands that tremble with anticipation, and finally the garment drops to the floor, leaving the brunette completely bare.

"You look even better like this," Emma says with a grin, drinking in the sight before her; the _Evil Queen,_ butt-naked, wet and glistening and ready, thighs parted and trembling with desire. She can't resist toying with the older woman a little more; "The queen, naked and bare and just _waiting–"_

"Stop talking," Regina growls, cutting the sheriff off and pushing roughly at her head, directing her to the apex of her parted thighs.

Emma just smirks and begins trailing her tongue over the insides of the brunette's thighs, teasing – always teasing – with the very tip. There's an occasional nip, and electricity shoots through Regina with each one. Her tongue gets closer and closer to where Regina needs her before drifting away again to taunt the brunette just a little more.

Regina's hand rests firmly against the back of Emma's head, keeping her close but not yet demanding more. "Emma," she warns lowly, very aware of the slick arousal that's beginning to spread over her inner thighs. She's aching for the blonde's touch, but she's not above taking matters into her own hands – quite literally – if Emma doesn't deliver soon.

"Patience," Emma just says for the second time that evening, sucking at one spot hard enough to leave a pink mark that will no doubt be a rather impressive shade of purple tomorrow. Satisfied that she's left her mark on Regina, the blonde moves her mouth upwards again. Her tongue trails up soft thighs and laps up the wetness that trickles down the brunette's thighs. She moans at the taste – intoxicating and heady, the perfect balance of tangy and sweet. Something clicks inside her and she craves more, an animalistic and uncontrollable urge. "You taste even better than you smell," Emma groans, tamping down on the urge to completely devour Regina this instant; she's taking this slow, teasing Regina and working her up into a shaking mess of arousal until she begs and begs for release, which means they both have to wait.

Regina whimpers at the blonde's words, and her fingers knot in Emma's hair, tugging slightly. "Then get on with it," she hisses.

Emma chuckles, low and breathy. She licks Regina's thighs clean of arousal, only moving on when she's satisfied she's gleaned all she can from this area. Using two fingers to spread the brunette's folds, she swipes her tongue through the copious wetness she finds there.

The queen's head falls against the wall, mouth open in an obscene moan. She relaxes her grip on the dagger, allowing it to drop to the floor with a dull thud, and her newly free hand joins the other, tangled in soft, golden locks. She's on edge and still sensitive from her first orgasm, and the feel of Emma's tongue, as brief as it is, is just too divine.

Unrelenting, Emma takes another long lick, relishing the sound of the brunette's panting. Her hands settle on Regina's thighs, tightening to hold her in place, and then her tongue flattens against Regina's hard clit, flicking at it three times in quick succession. The brunette's hips buck, pulling back from the touch that's almost too much for her to handle and then moving desperately towards it again.

Two fingers slide through her wetness briefly, collecting it and then moving upwards to smear it carelessly over her toned stomach as a hand journeys up to toy with Regina's breasts. Emma's lithe fingers circle a nipple, rubbing and teasing it until it stands hard and erect. Each touch sends shocks coursing through the queen, and the blonde's tongue continues moving between her thighs, working Regina up to her peak and never letting up.

Emma's attention moves back to her main task, and she circles Regina's entrance with the tip of her warm tongue.

"Emma," the brunette whimpers before she can catch herself. Her hips grind mindlessly down against the blonde's mouth, an attempt to push Emma's tongue inside her. She succeeds in a way, and moans as the tip of the sheriff's tongue enters her briefly, but then Emma is pulling quickly out and her moan is turning into a displeased growl.

"Beg for it," the Dark One orders firmly, voice low and husky with arousal. She pulls away until she's no longer touching Regina, but remains close enough for every word to vibrate torturously against Regina's clit.

This again, this power play. She should have known there would be a price for whatever this thing they're doing is. Regina clamps her mouth shut before it can betray her; she _won't_ beg for this, won't give Emma what she wants. She'll find another way to get her release, be it with Emma or by her own hand.

When given nothing but silence, Emma growls and pushes a forearm against Regina's abdomen, forming a bar of sorts to press her into the wall. Her teeth sink into the brunette's thigh, her tongue swirling over the skin. The former queen whimpers through gritted teeth at the way the nerves beneath Emma's mouth spring to life and electricity fires straight to her sex. It's quite possible she's never been so ridiculously wet, but still she refuses to beg.

"Fuck you," she hisses instead. A moment passes as Regina glares at Emma. Then it clicks inside her slow and frazzled mind that her hands are free and unbound, and in a second, one hand is making its way between her legs. She glares at the blonde defiantly, eyes burning and locked with green ones.

Emma watches raptly as Regina quickly, hungrily circles the bundle of nerves, openly and unashamedly masturbating before the sheriff's very eyes. A sigh of relief slips from the brunette's lips, and she slides two fingers inside herself, hips bucking frantically as she thrusts her fingers. Her head falls against the wall, eyes closing, and a look of pure ecstasy spreads over her face. She's not there yet, but _God_ , she's close.

It's then that the blonde snaps out of it and comes to her senses. Her eyes flash angrily, and with a flick of her wrist, Regina's wrists are bound above her head. Her hips thrust once more before her mind catches up, and she growls deep in her throat. "You bastard." Her voice is full of rage yet trembling with desire.

"Did I say you could touch yourself?" Emma scolds coldly, rising to her feet and glaring at Regina with hard eyes. Her hand settles over the brunette's throat and squeezes just enough to make the woman uncomfortable but not hurt her.

Regina swallows. "You never said I couldn't," she retorts, fingers curling into fists above her head. If she though Emma was annoying before, it's nothing compared to how infuriating she is now.

"Don't get clever." The blonde pushes Regina roughly into the wall by her neck before easing up again.

"You think I'm going to do exactly what you say, saviour?" Regina says with a throaty laugh and a raised brow. "Just like that?"

"You will," Emma says simply. She leans in close enough for her hot breath to hit Regina's ear. "Because I want to fuck you, Regina. I want to fuck you until you're too sensitive to bear anymore," she breathes. Her other hand inches down the older woman's toned torso, fingers trailing over hard nipples for only a second before moving on. "I want to feel you clench around me when you come and I want to taste you when you spill over."

The queen swallows, her chest tight. More wetness pools between her thighs, and she stares straight forward, past the blonde and at the opposite wall, as Emma continues to whisper crude words into her ear.

"I'll lick you so gently and so good, and you won't even know what to do with yourself," Emma continues. "And then? Then I'll lap up every last drop of your sweet essence because you taste so impossibly delicious." Teeth nip the shell of her ear in a way that's not at all gentle but seductive all the same, and Regina lets out a small, shuddering breath.

Then the sheriff is pulling away and looking Regina in the eye again. "I'll give you all of that, Regina."

The brunette can't help but look hopeful even though her mind is screaming at her that this is a trick. She knows what's coming, knows that there's going to be a condition, but the blonde's words are torturous and seductive and too good to ignore. (Regina absently wonders if going dark improves one's vocabulary, since Emma had never been so eloquent as the sheriff and saviour.)

Emma caresses her cheek gently with the back of her hand, reeling her in with the tenderness Regina desires from the saviour. But this is the Dark One, not the saviour, and there's always a price. Everything always has a damn price.

"All you have to do is ask nicely," Emma promises softly – almost sickeningly so – with a sweet, innocent smile.

Regina wants to hit Emma in that moment. She swallows a frustrated whine, and instead allows her head to fall against the wall once more in defeat. God, she wants to tell Emma to just go fuck herself or something along those lines, but the persistent throbbing between her thighs is only escalating, and she knows she's going to give in. Regina wants – no, _needs_ – this too badly, and she hasn't got many options, tied up like this. She's not certain, but she's suspects Emma has enchanted her restraints so that she can't undo them herself. A tentative push with her magic confirms it; the restraints refuse to budge.

"What if I don't?" she hedges.

Emma smirks. "Then I'll leave you here, naked and tied up without your release." She takes a second to think, cocking her head thoughtfully. "Who knows, maybe our dear little son will find you. What _would_ he think if he found his mother – strong, wholesome old Regina – in such a position? Desperate and positively _dripping–"_

"Stop talking," Regina commands for the second time. Really, she's in no position to be shouting orders, but she can't hear Emma talk about Henry like that, can't imagine his disgust and disappointment if he was to find her like this for even a second.

The Dark One just smirks, watching as a war wages inside the brunette. She's won, Emma knows, even though Regina is still arguing with herself. The mayor won't risk losing her son again, not because of _this,_ especially after all they've been through together. A few small words seem a small price to pay to stop that.

"Fine," Regina grits out, straightening up again and meeting Emma's eye.

"You're going to have to do better than that," the Dark One says, eyes glinting.

Regina huffs, looks away for a second as if to gather herself, and then glares at the other woman. "Fuck me."

"I wasn't aware that you were the one making demands here," Emma throws back. She's smirking – that asshole – no doubt having more than a little bit of fun twisting the fearsome Evil Queen into her delicate, whimpering submissive. "Ask nicely. Tell me what you need."

A flush spreads over Regina's cheeks, and the brunette is suddenly grateful that it's dark in the bedroom. She's certainly no prude, but this is unfamiliar territory for her; even Mal hadn't gone this far.

"I need you to fuck me," Regina says lowly, arousal seeping into her voice.

Emma's eyes wander over Regina's form for a second, contemplating. "Say please."

The former queen bites back an insult. She seems to weigh up her options for a second before finally caving. "Please fuck me," she breathes. Her voice hitches as Emma's still-exploring fingers slide lightly through her wetness once more, teasing and pushing for more. "Please let me come," she whimpers as the blonde's fingertips push at her entrance once more.

"Good girl," Emma praises, that infuriating smirk still plastered on her face. Apparently she finds this whole thing very amusing, and Regina supposes it's to be expected of the woman that had just _smirked_ when threated by the Evil fucking Queen.

Emma lowers herself onto her knees once more. "That wasn't so hard now, was it?" She flicks her hand once more, and then Regina's hands are free again; there's no reason for them now that Emma is giving Regina what she wants.

Regina wants to yell at her, wants to summon a fireball and set the blonde alight for making her beg and daring to praise her like a dog or a little girl, but then Emma's tongue is on her again, lapping up fresh arousal before entering the queen with little ceremony.

Curse after curse rolls off Regina's tongue as the blonde thrusts in and out of her with increasing speed. After a minute, Emma's tongue starts to cramp and she pulls out, replacing her tongue with two fingers. A 'come hither' motion inside Regina draws a strangled cry from the woman, and then the blonde's tongue is flicking over her clit again.

The former queen feels utterly overloaded with pleasure, every flick sending shocks of pleasure through her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. Emma doesn't even give her time to process her pleasure, her tongue and fingers unrelenting, working together in perfect synch. The blonde senses how close Regina is, feels her thighs tremble and hears the woman's pants turn to needy whimpers and moans, quiet enough so as to not wake their son but audible all the same. At the last moment, Emma's lips close around the brunette's clit, and she sucks hard, fingers still moving inside Regina.

Before Regina knows it, she's coming again, biting down on her own fingers to stop herself from crying out and waking her sleeping son across the hall. She gushes over the blonde's fingers and hand – she hasn't done _that_ in a long time – completely lost in pleasure, and a low, drawn-out moan slips from her lips only to be muffled by her hand.

The last wave of pleasure wracks the brunette's form, and then she falls against the wall once more, utterly exhausted as she comes down from her astounding high. "God," she breathes out shakily, not completely with it yet.

"Not quite," Emma says with a smug smile, pulling back. She's still got that smart-ass sense of humour, even with the Dark One residing in her body, and Regina wants to slap the smirk off her face. Maybe in a minute, when she's recovered.

Jesus.

As the haze of lust clears, she realises what she's just done, and just how naked and disheveled she currently is. The brunette bends to pick her clothes off the floor. "Get out of my house," she says flatly and firmly, voice hoarse.

"Are you sure?" Emma teases. "Because I recall you saying something along those lines not so long ago and later being rather happy I _didn't_ leave." Her eyes rake over Regina once more, watching as the woman pulls her underwear on and slips into the silk pyjama top. She dips down to the floor again, and Emma thinks she's going for the pyjama bottoms, but instead, Regina picks up the dagger.

"I'm sure," Regina promises, eyes burning with defiance and rage despite what has just transpired. "Leave."

The Dark One's eyes darken with anger at being controlled, and she huffs like a petulant child, except that her face looks positively murderous. Then, without further conflict, she twists her hand and disappears in a puff of dark smoke, leaving Regina alone once more.

There's a beat as Regina silently stares at the space where Emma had been, and then she exhales and drops the dagger, burying her face in shaking hands. There are a million questions – more than before – floating around in her mind, ricocheting inside her skull. Some there are no answers to, but others have answers that Regina isn't ready to think about.

Instead, she slips the pyjama bottoms on – because she is Regina Mills and she does things _properly_ – and gets into bed, pulling the sheets around her shoulders and up to her chin. She can still hear Emma's voice, can still feel her fingers on her, and she thinks this is something a shower won't take away. For now, though, she pretends she can't, pretends that everything is fine and that Emma hadn't overpowered her or fucked her or sacrificed herself for her like the complete idiot she is.

Before she falls into a restless sleep, Regina thinks absently that it's not regret that gnaws away at her – definitely not regret – and that is why this is so confusing and uncomfortable.


	3. Chapter 3

**Holy shit, an UPDATE at last! I'm so, so sorry this took so long and I hope some of you are still with me?  
**

 **This is a lead-in to something suggested by Donoterase over at AO3 (thank you!) and I have a final chapter planned to wrap everything up. It might be a little while again since I have exams, but let me know if you'd rather it take the form of a fourth chapter or a short sequel!**

 **A heads up: this is pretty much all plot, and there's a slight focus on Regina and the Charmings fighting to get Emma back. It is still a SQ fic in the end, however.**

 **Warnings: violence, death, swearing, and mentions of sex but nothing explicit.**

 **And a final big thank you because this is my most popular fic to date, and the first of mine to reach over 250 kudos on AO3 :D**

* * *

Days pass by, and then weeks and months. There are confrontations with Emma – violent fights, and arguments about Henry, family, and darkness you can't come back from – but none are like that first night.

Regina's not sure if she's grateful for that or not, but she supposes at least it gives her time to think.

This time, they're gathered at the docks – the whole Charming family and their pirate puppy dog. There's a glint in Emma's eye, mischievous and utterly chilling, as she draws nearer. The woman's clad in tight, black denim and leather – if it was any other time, Regina might take a moment to appreciate the view, but alas – with silvery hair pulled back into a severe braided bun. Gone is the uncontrolled rage and the wild, tangled golden locks that were a whisper of the strong-hearted saviour, replaced by something far colder and more calculated.

Wild anger and sheer resolve has finally given away to this deeper corruption, steely and unwavering – something Regina recognises and remembers well.

Henry stands at Emma's side, chin held up and shoulders squared bravely despite the hands that tremble at his sides. Even through everything, he still believes his mother is still in there somewhere, but in this moment, with her sharp nails digging into his shoulder possessively, she's very much something to be afraid of.

Because right now, she's entirely the Dark One and he is nothing more to her than a bargaining chip, a way of hurting and manipulating their family.

"Let me have my son, Regina, or I tell them," Emma threatens lowly.

Regina steps forward, muscles tensed and magic just a hand swish away. "He was never purely _your_ son, Miss Swan," she snarls, lips pulled back to reveal bared teeth. The plan had been to remain cool and collected, to not take whatever bait Emma might use, but now her son has been added to the equation, and _nothing_ is going to stop her fighting for him. She'll lay down her life in a heartbeat if it means he'll be safe; that's what mothers do.

"Not true," the blonde retorts calmly. She's thinking of the times Henry had run from Regina at the beginning of all this madness, when he'd known she was the Evil Queen and had hated her for it. (He'd still been _their_ son even then, regardless of how much any of them may have argued otherwise.) Everything's different now, though, the situation somewhat flipped. Somewhere deep inside her, a buried part of the Dark One feels a pang of horrible pain at the thought of being shunned by her son like Regina had been once.

The Dark One quickly suppresses that emotion – it's a weakness, and she won't have any of that – and moves smoothly on. "You think I won't tell them?"

"Tell us what?" Snow pipes up, brows pulled together in confusion as she glances from her daughter to Regina and back again. There's fear in her eyes, like she's expecting the worst.

Regina ignores her and powers on. A black, humorless laugh bubbles up from inside her. "Are you really so stupid as to believe I'd choose my dignity over my son?" she hisses. Her hands clench into fists beside her, tamping down on the urge to summon a fireball and hurl it at the woman before her. As much as she'd like to, it's not going to help them get _their_ Emma back, and she's not going to risk her son getting hurt because she can't keep her anger in check. "If that's the price of saving Henry from you, tell them. I _really_ don't care." Her upper lip is curled with rage, and her eyes are dark and hard.

Apprehension swirls in her stomach as Emma cocks her head and considers it. Then, the blonde's lips curl into a cruel smirk, and she casually flicks her wrist. Henry disappears from her side in a puff of dark smoke, reappearing beside Regina a second later. She pulls him close, one hand settling on his shoulder as she uses her body to shield him from Emma

"What's going on?" Hook asks suspiciously, watching the former queen. His eyes flit over to Emma, softening slightly. "What do you want to tell us, love?"

Emma rolls her eyes at the way he practically melts before her, desperate for love he'll never receive from a woman who cares little for him. Though, he could be useful later – she has no doubt he'll switch sides in a heartbeat to be with her, always the weak-willed pirate with very few loyalties. "Just that your oh-so-scary Evil Queen isn't as dominant or high and mighty as she likes to pretend she is."

The confusion of the group only grows, and the Dark One looks at the brunette in question to see her reaction.

The mayor's hands are clamped over her son's ears, and she's glaring at the concrete as if she's trying to burn a hole in it.

Because this isn't about Emma getting off on telling their family about what Regina likes in bed – Regina couldn't give less shits about that, in the grand scheme of things. No, this is a method of humiliating the former queen, a way to drive a wedge between Regina and the other Charmings and break down the trust that they all depend upon.

Typical divide and conquer.

Regina might not care, but the others might – giving into weakness and fucking the enemy likely won't do anyone any favours.

Emma snorts before continuing because what a typically Regina Mills reaction. "In fact, she makes a very good submissive," she purrs. "If you catch my drift. I'm sure she's got a lot of practice under her belt."

Charming jumps in then, ever the over-protective father. "Regina? What's she talking about?" He pauses to breathe, and then it dawns on him. He looks oddly angry, considering his daughter is in her thirties and the fucking Dark One, and doesn't need parenting like a naive teenager anymore. "Did you and her –"

Snow places a hand on his chest, apparently having understood already. Her face is decidedly no-nonsense, like she understands that this isn't the time for protective parenting, understands what Emma is trying to do. "David," she interrupts flatly. "Not the time."

Apparently one of the Charmings has half a brain.

The former shepherd fumes, his lips pressed into a thin line as he glares at Regina, but he shuts up for the moment.

The smaller woman steps in front of him then, and stares right at her daughter. "I know what you're doing, Emma," she says, eyes boring into cold, flat green ones every ounce the defiant bandit she had been all those years ago. "I know you're trying to tear this family apart, but you won't."

Regina's hands slip slowly away from her son's ears, down to rest on his shoulders, because his grandmother is speaking some sense (for once) and she thinks he should hear this, hear how strong their family really is.

"Won't I?" Emma challenges, voice as smooth as silk and completely devoid of any emotion.

"Not on my watch," Snow swears earnestly. "Regina is our friend, and I know that the real you wouldn't want to hurt her."

Something flickers across the blonde's face for a second – something sad and unreadable, followed by rage, and then a fake calm. She opens her mouth to come out with something no doubt along the lines of "this is the real me" but then Snow is continuing, carrying on like a steamroller.

"We love her regardless of her – _sexual preferences_ – and it's going to take a _hell_ of a lot more than that for this family to crumble." The former bandit pauses, and her eyes soften slightly. "I know that when our Emma returns to us, she'll thank us for that."

Regina's chin lifts, and when Emma gives her a glance over, she defiantly makes eye contact.

Emma works her jaw, because god, how sickening can her own mother get? She thinks, though, that sometimes there are times when you can't win a fight, not because of your own faults, but because the opposition is so moronic and stubborn.

This is one of those times.

A disgusted noise from the back of her throat, and then she raises a hand, tense and poised. "Your blind hope will come back and bite you in the end," she growls, and then disappears in a cloud of black smog.

All at once, the mismatched family lets out a collective breath.

* * *

"Regina."

The mayor exhales, rolls her eyes, and sets her cup of tea down on the counter a little harder than necessary. "What?"

There's nothing good about the tone of the woman behind her, and conversations with Snow somehow always seem to be difficult and embarrassing, regardless of how far they've come in the last few years.

"We need to talk," Snow says, sitting down beside Regina at the breakfast bar. "About you and Emma."

Of course.

"No, we really don't," Regina deadpans, stirring her already thoroughly mixed tea.

"Regina _."_

Damn Snow and that stupid, condescending tone of hers.

She sighs, flexes her jaw, and then reluctantly gives in because she hasn't got the energy for a struggle right now – not when Emma could strike at any moment. "What do you want to know?"

It's the younger woman's turn to huff a sigh. "You and her – you…"

"Had sex. Yes," Regina finishes. (She thinks it's funny how a woman can conceive and birth two children of her very own and still be unable to talk about sex, but that's Snow White for you.)

Snow visibly squirms at the brunette's bluntness, but quickly pulls herself together. "Do we need to be worried?" she asks softly. There's concern all over her face, for Regina and for Emma, and for what this might mean for the rest of them. There are so many ways that one night could quickly turn pear-shaped for all of them.

It had been a weakness – it could be used as leverage in any number of ways – and Regina knows now that it had been a mistake.

Regret can't change the past though; she knows that better than anyone.

Regina swallows, because truly? She doesn't know. "Not about me," she answers firmly. It doesn't really answer the question, but it's something. "I won't let Henry get hurt because I made a stupid mistake." The queen pauses. "Or you and your idiot," she grumbles. "No promises about the pirate, though."

The other woman shoots her a disapproving look, but then rolls her eyes, because ultimately, she knows Regina will protect every last one of them if it's what Emma wants – not because of this night they spent together, but because the women were – _are –_ friends, and that's what friends do.

Snow squints at her for a long moment, figuring something out, and then says quietly, "We will get her back, you know."

Regina frowns. "I know."

There's doubt though, because this is so big, bigger than them – they're dealing with the _Dark One,_ for God's sake, the greatest evil ever to have existed. She doesn't know that they'll get their Emma back – they can't possibly know that, not when Emma seems so far gone already – but she says no more.

* * *

A week later, they find the first body.

It's Tom Clark – Sneezy, who'd never hurt a soul – strung up above the street on a utility post, the telephone wires warped and twisted with magic to wrap tightly around his wrists and neck, a violent warning for everyone to see. His corpse is mangled and bloody, like Emma had played with him like a cat plays with a mouse, and his face is a sick bluish grey, the wires cutting off his now-cold and thickened blood supply.

And it's only Sneezy, only the pharmacist, only a civilian, but it's a life taken without reason or remorse, a soul ripped away from friends, and it's enough to scare the town into near silence for almost a week.

It's enough, and it's a grim message to the town – _I'm not playing around_.

A gloom settles over the town from then on as everyone realises that their _Saviour_ truly is gone unless a miracle happens.

* * *

Maybe one will.

Their rag-tag family does the only thing they can, and sets about finding a solution.

More bodies pile up, and weeks drag by, spent locked away with dusty books and yellowed scrolls, searching for any way to separate the darkness from the body it inhabits. Hook is not so good at research, it turns out, and no one is particularly surprised. His preferred method is pacing almost constantly and exploding into fits of rage every so often, never really uncovering anything useful.

Regina is surprised he can even read in the first place – not that it matters anyway, since he doesn't bother.

It's becoming clear to her with every childish outburst of his that he hasn't redeemed himself at all – growled threats and the pointed tip of his hook pressed against David's throat during a particularly bad disagreement attest to that – but simply considered Emma his redemption, his happy ending, his _saviour._

That's all he sees Emma as – the saviour, _his_ saviour, instead of the _person_ she really is – and anger ignites in Regina's chest at the thought.

Still, finding a way to help Emma is more important than indulgently putting Hook in his place (God, would she like to bruise that deceptively pretty face of his but _priorities)_ so she bites her tongue and focuses on the task in hand.

In the end, it's Belle who uncovers the secret to getting their Emma back. The text is in an ancient language, but the librarian pieces it together, slowly but surely. There's an artifact somewhere (isn't there always?) that is said to be powerful enough to draw out even the darkest of evils and trap it for eternity.

"How do we find it?" Snow wonders with a frown. She's weary; simultaneously caring for a baby and searching for a way to rescue your Dark One daughter will take its toll on a person.

Belle is quiet for a moment, eyes running over the text, checking her translation. Intelligent blue eyes drift up to meet Snow's, and she speaks, disbelief in her voice. "It says the Dark One – uh, pre-Emma, that is – stole it to prevent anyone from capturing him." She pauses. "So I suppose it should be somewhere here in Rumple's shop."

Regina exhales quickly, a breathy laugh escaping her, because is it really going to be this simple? The object they require is simply _sitting in their lap_. "So let's find it."

It takes a day to rummage through Rumple's dusty collection, equal parts valuable trinkets and apparent junk, but they find it. It's a small urn, no bigger than a palm, blood red and gilded in gold with a lever which allows the top to spring open. It's rather underwhelming, all things considered, but if it will help Emma, then it doesn't matter what they think.

Still, it seems too easy, everything falling into place with almost no effort, no ridiculous quests or battles.

Regina swallows her anxiety, and raises her chin, meeting Snow's eyes. "Let's catch ourselves a Dark One."

* * *

She wakes not a minute after she goes down, face pressed against the damp forest floor. There's blood, far too much, sticky and warm against her forehead and temple, plastering dark hair to her skin.

They'd gone in with a plan – a good, strategic one too – but Emma had been prepared – that fucking future vision that is part of the Dark One's armory – and everything had happened so quickly.

She turns her head, winces and exhales a little from the effort, and yeah, Henry is still at Emma's side, fear written all over his face and eyes shiny with tears he refuses to cry (he's their son, after all, and he seems to have inherited their high walls). He's looking right at her, lying prone in the dirt, and he looks as if he thinks she won't wake up.

But then she pushes herself up on shaky arms, ever the fighter, and relief washes over him like a tidal wave, like he thinks that if his mom is alright, then everything will be ok somehow.

Regina wishes his faith in her was justified. Right now, there's a stabbing pain in her head and nausea sitting heavy in the back of her throat, and her vision is swimming, and all she can think is _how the fuck is she going to fix this?_

Forcing herself to her knees, she sees that Snow and David are unconscious and bound to trees with thick chains – the same sort of magic Emma had used to bind her hands that night – and won't be any help for now. Their heads loll eerily on their necks, and a few feet away lays Hook's mangled and bloody body. His head is at a weird angle (Regina remembers for a split second, a guard all those years ago and the sound of his neck snapping with a sickening crunch), mouth slack and every inch of visible skin mottled with dark bruises.

A chill runs down Regina's spine.

So it's all on her.

"Oh," Emma sighs, noticing her, speaking as if she's nothing more than a mild annoyance. "You're alive."

A grimace spreads itself across Regina's face, fire igniting in her chest as adrenaline well and truly kicks in. She finds the strength to stand up fully, even as her knees tremble. "I'm not that easy to kill," she drawls, eyes flashing.

The Dark One shrugs. "I guess I'll just have to try harder then."

Regina swallows, hands twitching, curling into fists at her sides. "Go ahead," she invites. "But don't bring our son into this."

Emma hesitates for a fraction of a second at _our son_ , but then her hand is raising, ready to lash out if needs be. "Why not?" she asks, and it's evidence of just how much the Dark One is in control right now, because Emma Swan would never bring Henry into one of their fights, not like this, not so cruelly.

"You're not going to gain anything from hurting him," Regina promises. "It's me you want. _I'm_ the one who took him from you. _I'm_ the one who did all those _awful_ things to keep you from taking him back. I forced your parents to give you up," she says, drawing nearer, her face softening. " _I'm_ responsible for everything that went wrong in your life, Emma, and you know it." She doesn't regret any of it, because it got her her son, but Emma is angry and looking for someone to take that anger out on, and this might just work.

This is her way to Emma, the way to get close enough to use the urn and divert the situation away from the mass grave it's hurtling towards.

Cold green eyes suddenly set alight with rage, and Emma slinks forward, away from their teenage son (Regina exhales in relief) and towards Regina. "Yes, you are," she purrs. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't just kill you right now."

Her fingers are reaching out, now, trailing down Regina's neck and over her silk shirt, hovering over the spot where her heart lays, dark and battered but still beating strong and defiant. There's nothing stopping Emma from plucking Regina's heart from her chest at any moment, and there's blood trickling down the side of her face, drying into a brown crust, and she thinks this is the definition of mortality. Standing on shaking legs in the middle of the dark forest, her allies beaten down and unconscious, seconds away from potential death. Even the moon has hidden behind thick, dark clouds, leaving only a sliver of dim light to see by.

The urn feels heavy in her coat pocket, and she slips her hand inside, feeling the cool metal against her fingertips. It occurs to her that if this doesn't work, then it's quite probably the end for all of them.

"Because you'll regret it, Emma," Regina says earnestly, liquid brown eyes wide, all hostility dropped. She's speaking to the scared, hurt woman who has been invaded by the darkness, and there's no reason for the anger and the venom, because she loves this woman.

She's not sure what the affection in her chest means yet, whether it's entirely platonic or – something else – but she _loves_ Emma. She wants – needs – her safe.

Right now, that requires Regina to put her own life on the line. So she does.

Emma chokes out an angry, strangled laugh, and her fingers settle over Regina's heart, pressing down slightly but not enough to enter her chest. "I'll regret killing the woman who ruined my _entire life_ and took my son away from me?"

Regina thinks she sounds familiar, like the Evil Queen from all those years ago, and the nausea is back with a vengeance, twisting sickeningly in her stomach.

"You overestimate me, Regina," the blonde hisses as the tips of her fingers slip just beneath her skin, but then Regina is pulling the urn out of her pocket and flicking the catch. The lid jumps open with a _click_ , and the air is suddenly thick and choking, vibrating with strong, _dark_ magic.

Regina thinks she's going to be sick as the magic forces its way down her throat and up her nose, suffocating and powerful, but then Emma is dropping to her knees and tensing up. Her body spasms and convulses, her mouth open in a silent cry as ancient darkness forces its way out of her. It sticks to her, pulls at her insides as it's yanked out and funnelled into the urn, and it must hurt terribly.

This is just the beginning though, and Regina knows this pain Emma must be experiencing will be nothing compared to the agony she will be in when she remembers everything she's done in the last few months.

Thick darkness, black and sticky like tar, is slowly sucked into the urn, swirling and screeching and cold, and then the urn's lid flies shut and everything is silent.

Emma is wide-eyed, hands settled on her stomach and fingers clutching at her clothes. She breathes heavily, eyes wet and shocked and confused, and she looks like she's just experienced the trip of her life.

Regina lowers herself to one knee until she's level with her friend, watches her cautiously, as if she thinks she might frighten Emma away if she's too brash. "Emma?"

Green eyes dart about anxiously before meeting deep brown ones, and then recognition blooms in them finally. With it, however, comes dread and _regret_ , winding her as they hit her hard in the stomach, and god, she's going to be sick.

A cracked sob breaks the silence, and Emma curls into herself, hiding her face in the crook of her elbow as her arms encircle herself as if she thinks her body will crumble and the pieces will float away if she doesn't hold herself together.

Regina's sure she can feel her heart break in her chest as the saviour – her _friend_ – makes herself as small as possible, and she finds herself moving closer, pulling Emma into her arms and just _holding her_ as she sobs. She's whispering Emma's name over and over, _Emmaemmaemmaemma,_ maybe because she's trying to remind the blonde that she's not the darkness, maybe because what the hell do you say here?

Maybe you don't have to say anything at all. Maybe simply _being_ is enough.

Still.

Snow and David are waking up now, sprawled on the floor since their bindings had broken when the dark magic had left Emma's body. They help each other stand on unsteady legs, and then Henry's with them, curling into them as the three of them watch but don't intervene.

The pirate is still on the ground, and god, as much as Regina hates him, she also wishes he would miraculously wake up because it will kill Emma to know she's killed the man she thought she loved.

Weeks ago, she'd cracked a dark joke about being unwilling to protect him, but now it's terribly unfunny as he lays on the ground, his broken body cooling rapidly as his lover and murderer sobs until she can't.

But that's for another time, because right now, everything is enough of a mess without adding another body to the equation (Emma's killed four people – five now – and though it's hardly a frantic killing spree, it's more than enough guilt for one person to handle.)

Emma is shaking in her arms and Regina can feel the blood drying on her the side of her face and there's one more dead body than there was before, and all they can do now is try to piece things back together bit by bit.


End file.
